Godless Sound: Interludes
by YourHead
Summary: While Lincoln tries to solve mysteries surrounding his family and their tragedies, the sisters have their own problems to deal with. Annex stories to Godless Sound. Not needed to read for the main story, but a nice extra if you feel like reading it. These are also interactive stories that are "played" on the /trash/ board at the /tlhg/ thread in 4chan. Again, go at your own risk.
1. Interlude I: Together

Godless Sound: Interludes

A Loud House Interactive Story

INTERLUDE I: TOGETHER

You are now Lisa Loud.

According to the theory of ex-corpus physical manifestations you've researched, you needed two material links for the alma, or "soul", to be pulled back from its current plane.

The first should come from its previous material container. You got it a couple of days ago, thanks to a very cooperative gravekeeper and some funds deviation from college.

Taking the whole corpse would have been too hard to bring and kept hidden, but if your hypothesis is correct, just a part of it should suffice, recovered from the burial itself. It helped that, for reasons unknown yet, the preservation state of the body was remarkable. Strange. But that question is to be answered on another occasion.

You had the sample in a small metallic box in your pocket. It was curious how stronger the sample was than the subject's past belongings, which just moved slightly under the ex-corpus manifestations.

Not only it moved. It was warm and soft to the touch. Like holding her hand once again...

"Cold mind, cold mind..." You verbalize to yourself. You can't let your heart meddle in this phase.

The second sample is trickier to get. It has to be something that has the soul's ethereal trace. However, simple toys and old pacifiers were not enough. The soul prints on objects are, according to your readings, too low for the procedure. It had to come from a living thing, a closer connection to this plane.

You look at Charles. An old dog that slept all day. You look at Cliff. An old cat that ate all day. You look at Walt. Xeroxed replacement of other canaries. You look at Geo. Shortlived offspring of an offspring.

CHOOSE:

Charles

Cliff

Walt

Geo

CHOSEN: Walt

The place was set already. The kitchen was probably the best. You had alcohol, and water ready to boil your tools, a clean and sterilized table. But the blood had to be wiped with something nobody would miss, or at least you think nobody should care about. And going by your experience attending surgeries in visitor rooms, there would be a lot of blood to clean, and it would ruin anything you may use.

You thought in some clothes the older sisters left here before leaving to their own places. There were some things like that in the attic. Some kind of colorful mantle, you guess something Leni made many years ago. There was also a sweater with a howling wolf stamp that Lola found some time ago at your current room, back when she moved in there. You remember Lori wearing it.

CHOOSE:

Leni's mantle

Lori's sweater

CHOSEN: Leni's mantle

Now, finally, you needed a tool to get the sample. Since it would come from a living organism, it should be something that could either hack through flesh and bone fast or do a clean cut. Sadly, you couldn't bring the surgical implements from college, so you had to do it with the house' tools at hand.

There's that big butcher cleaver mom uses to chop everything, from vegetables to beef, and you remember one-time mom cut clean chicken bones and other hard objects. Labeled on one side with the words "stainless steel, german manufacture". It'd be kind of funny to use a german tool for such cruel experimentations. If done with a sure strike, it should work for taking the sample, fast and easy.

There was also dad's saw in the garage. It wasn't as clean, but maybe with proper sterilizing, it could be safe to use. Plus, you'd be sure it can go through any kind of bodily tissue since you saw dad cutting even metal rods with it. It would be sure success to use it, but it'd take longer than a guillotine movement.

CHOOSE:

Mom's butcher cleaver

Dad's saw

CHOSEN: Mom's butcher cleaver

Time for the sample. You go to Walt's cage. You grab him, calmly. He flinches a bit, a little surprised by your approach, but you pet the animal and he calms down, feeling the warmness of your touch. You carry him to the kitchen, Walt completely unaware of your plans.

"Sorry to get you into this" You apologize to Walt.

When you get there, you place the animal at the arm of a chair, close to the door, like a small guard.

"Can you chirp when somebody comes? I'll need a heads-up".

The animal had a good understanding of your language, thanks to both you, with the "special diets" you tested on all the pets for a campus friend's research; and to Lana, who has way more patience than you to train them to do tricks. The bird chirped, signaling agreement.

Just when you were about to just leave the pet's side, you remember to give one more command.

"Oh, and don't look into the kitchen. Keep your eyes on the doors".

Walt follows the order and stays put in his spot.

You go to the table in the kitchen and prepare it with every cleaning utensil you may need, including the colorful mantle and lots of toilet paper. You prepare the syringe with anesthetics. You clean and sterilize the butcher cleaver with care, leaving it to boil in a big casserole, along with one of Charles' chewing toys. You sterilize your hands and draw a line with the marker in the place to cut. Once you draw the line, cautiously you take the cutting tool and let the water evaporate, and the same with the chewing toy. You put the big knife at the side, while you use one of dad's belts to reduce the limb's blood flow. You clean the marked area with cotton and alcohol. You grab the syringe, pierce through the skin and apply the anesthetic. You pressure the area with the cotton, as you feel your left hand go completely numb. You put your hand on the table, while the other grabs chewing toy. You put it in your mouth, and bite hard as your right hand grabs the cleaver.

Thank God everyone else is asleep.

The anesthetics had your hand numb, but you weren't so sure that would be enough. You chewed on the toy as hard as you could, preparing for the swing. You lift the cleaver in the air, with some difficulty. It was pretty heavy. It balances up there, while you try to aim perfectly to the line you drew just below your pinky finger's joint. You feel a very cold sweat drop goes down your forehead, to your cheek, down your chin. You repeat in your head "Cold mind", many times.

Inhale.

Your scream is muffled.

It still hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts it fucking hurts. Tears fall down from your eyes, as your glasses fog, clouding your vision. You almost drop the chewing toy from your mouth, but you accommodate it and bite harder. You still had to cut a little more. Some skin was loose, some cartilage splintered, a nerve visible.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts so fucking much.

You cry as silently as you can, as you grab the mantle to hold the blood coming out from your finger stump, and the chewing toy falls from your mouth to the ground.

With difficulty, you take out of your pocket the metallic little box and open its locks. Inside, another transparent container holds another finger, from your deceased little sister. At its side, another clear container, open. You put your severed finger there.

You are now one step closer to her.

With one hand wounded and numb, it was hard to do the whole clean-up process. You cauterized your wound with a hot spoon, heated with the stove's fire. It didn't stop the bleeding fully, but it was better than let it flow. You grabbed some bandages and wrapped them around your hand and pinky stump. You took out dad's belt from your arm, and then you proceeded to clean the table, grab everything disposable and throw it in a garbage bag. You grab the tool and throw it in the kitchen sink, to wash it later.

After a whole lot of toilet paper and detergents, you grabbed the garbage bag and went out through the kitchen's garden door. It was rainy outside, and you splashed many ponds, covering your lab coat with muddied water. In a way, it helped to cover the blood stains.

You threw the garbage bag into the dumpster. Hopefully, nobody noticed. You went back from the same door you came.

You take a seat now, wipe your glasses and your tears, and breathe. It still hurts. Your left hand tingles. The anesthetics were wearing off. In an hour, the full feeling would come back, and the pain you already were feeling would only get worse.

You stand up to clean the tool, but just as you get close to the sink, you hear a bird chirp.

"Lisa?".

Your heart skips a beat, as you let an "eep!" escape your mouth and hide your wounded hand under your lab coat. Your whole body tenses up. You turn back, and see Lynn standing at the kitchen's entrance. What the hell was she doing there? You thought everyone was asleep in their rooms. She was somewhat wet. Was she STILL out? For how long? You should have checked every room first, before proceeding with the sample extraction...

Nevermind. You sigh with relief. She didn't notice anything weird. Your cleaning was thorough. Plus, her eyes seemed to trail off to nowhere in particular. She isn't very concentrated right now.

You can't really speak, in your state, so you just raise your right hand and wave.

"What are you doing here?" Lynn asks while she walks into the kitchen, searching around for a cup.

"Oh, I-I was... I just came for water..." You mutter, as you grab a random glass close to the sink, and fill it with liquid.

You drink the glass fast, and leave the glass wherever, as you walk back to your room. Lynn just watches you drift out, and shrugs.

You leave as fast as you can and get inside Lily's room. You close the door, and let yourself drop, leaning over it. It seems you didn't forget anything. Nobody would know. Nobody could know.

As you sit there, you take the metallic box out of your pocket and look at the samples. The box was warmer than before. She's here. Lily's here. You're together again.

You put the box back into your pocket, and go grab your study diary and pen. You sit at your improvised desk of stacked books.

"October 25, 20XX. The test samples have been secured. There was a very weird reaction, one of the samples got warm with me touching it directly. I'm not sure what this means, except maybe, there's still purpose in this world for Lily's soul, which would explain why her ethereal traces persist. I took the second sample today. My own pinkie finger from my left hand, just as I took her right's. Lynn saw me, but she has her mind somewhere else. I took the utmost care in the whole procedure, so she probably didn't notice my hands. I hope not. I don't want them to know. My current experiment is going too far for most people sensibilities, and I know my family would stop me at the very moment they find out. That's why they can't know. They could ruin it".

INTERLUDE END


	2. Interlude II: Wolf

Godless Sound: Interludes

A Loud House Interactive Story

INTERLUDE II: WOLF

You are now Lynn Loud Jr.

You've been training and exercising for three straight hours. You are sweaty and tired, but still push through. One hour more before your reunion. One night where you could, maybe, avoid being in the nuthouse that your "home" became.

Even if you don't like the knucklehead lifters and airhead cardio bunnies that plague the gym, being there helped you to evade the antics of your maddened sisters, your shut-in overprotective brother, bossy parents who push so hard for you to get a damn job, or just the general depressing feeling that looms around the house, like a permanent dark cloud raining on an already crappy parade.

It's better to go to shower now. The hour is coming.

You turn the hot water and let it pour down your body, over your face, as you close your eyes, remembering better days, when you didn't avoid everyone; when you didn't have to push them away from you, so they don't hurt you, or you didn't hurt them. You breathe, inhaling, counting to four, and exhaling, counting to four. It didn't matter. It was your night out now. You'll go meet that girl, maybe have fun, be with a friend.

After washing yourself, you go to your locker and see your clothing options. Your friend told you there's something special planned, so maybe getting just a tad fancier would be a nice touch. Not like you'd put on a skirt or a dress and paint your face with makeup, or anything. But going with something else than your usual sportswear might be good.

You're kinda terrible at dressing yourself, according to your older sisters, but you think you look good. Still, you tried to vary a little, even if you still prefer comfort instead of fashion. You use your sportswear for everything nowadays, since up until recently you didn't have that much of a social life, or at least not like everyone else. You talked with the people you did a sport with, but they'd disappear from your life as soon as the last goal was scored. It didn't used to be like that before. When did that started to happen, anyways? Like four, three months ago?

Anyways, the thing is you have to get dressed. You managed to prepare something that might look good with the few things you had. The only thing missing was some accessory to complement it, You got two things you thought they looked pretty cool with your attire. But which one would you actually use? It wouldn't look good just having both of them at the same time, right?

One of them is a necklace with two tiny dramatic masks dangling. One happy, one sad. It seems to have a "mysterious" vibe you kinda like, even if using necklaces isn't usually your thing. It isn't too shiny either, so it wouldn't look like you're trying to impress, or anything.

The other option is a choker with a circular plaque at the front. It depicted a moon, with one side darkened. You remember someone saying it looked like a dog collar when you bought it, but you didn't mind. It looked OK in your eyes. Kinda "badass", even.

CHOOSE:

NECKLACE

CHOKER

CHOSEN: NECKLACE

You look at the mirror once you dressed up. You think you look good. This could be your style when you're not doing sports, even. Still "sporty", but good to be with pals. If you ever get more friends, that is. At least you had one now, even if she had some weird mannerisms.

You get the rest of your things into the bag, getting them in a way that your aluminum bat is accessible. You got used to carry that around after your encounter with some thugs that tried to rob you, and who knows what else. Luckily that time you could hide from them, thanks to the friend you met there. But it's better to have something else. You can't always run away from your problems, can you?

You get out of the gym, and walk to the meeting place. It's autumn still, but it felt colder than usual. The skies covered in gray clouds. Will it rain?

Rainy days were never your thing, and you didn't prepare for it today. You hope there's not much trouble if it happens.

The streets of Royal Woods are particularly empty. Not more than one or two people crossed your path. Very few cars as well. Did you miss something?

A little drop of water falls over your head.

"Ah, dammit".

You look at the sky again, and start running to a roofed bus stop that was nearby. You got under safety before getting much water over you, but this prevents you from walking to your friend's place. You can't call a cab or anything like that, so you had to take the bus. You knew the way by foot, but you don't know what buses can get you there. You remembered there was one close to the gym that got you right next to her place, a 400-something. You're sure you'll recognize the bus once it passes.

Or you could call your friend and ask for directions. Not like she'd be angry at you or anything for not remembering her place, right?

CHOOSE:

TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS

CALL YOUR FRIEND

CHOSEN: TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS

You checked on a map plastered on the bus stop. You tried to get indications from a random passerby. It seems your only option right now is taking the 408, which would come eventually to the very stop you're in now. You don't remember very well, but that number does ring a bell. You hope it's the correct one.

A couple of minutes later, you catch the bus and get inside, pay the fare and take a seat. Although not full enough to have people standing, almost all the seats were taken. At the very end of the bus, one free seat is waiting for you. You take it and get as comfortable as it's possible in public transportation. You feel the bumps in every part of the road, but it beats going through the rain, or standing during the ride.

There's nothing remarkable about the ride. It's boring, that's about it. Nobody talks to each other in a bus ride, or very rarely. It's better that way. You needed to relax, to be alone with your thoughts, and even though a bumpy bus ride isn't exactly a therapeutic massage, silence helped you to concentrate on what you felt good with. Those things were running out recently.

You recognize the area. It's close to her apartment. You ring the bell, the bus stops. You get down and walk, or more like run to avoid the downpour, to the residential building.

As you enter the place, drier than you expected to be, you go to the desk, where an old man reading the newspaper sits. You call his attention dinging one of those bells hotels have.

"Whaddya need, kid?" He answers, without removing his eyes from the newspaper.

"I'm looking for Maggie. Is she here?" You ask, politely.

"She's out. You can go to her door, but you'll have to wait for her if you wanna get in".

"That's OK. Thanks!"

He doesn't answer. It seems Maggie's mood sticks to other people.

That mood where she would barely react to the outside world, a little bit in the air, with a nihilistic attitude towards life. It reminded you to your sister Lucy, back when she was still fun to hang out with. Now she's been such a drag, and dealing with her issues became a little too much for you. You offered help, but she wants to suffer, it seems, so whatever, let her suffer, you guess. Sounds a bit cruel, but she wouldn't let anyone help either way, so what could you do anymore?

Whatever.

You walk and ascend through the stairs to the fourth floor, where Maggie's apartment should be.

According to the guy, there's nobody inside. However, as soon as you lean over the door, you feel someone opening it. Your reflexes helped at keeping you standing up, but it did catch you by surprise.

"The old man told me you were out!" You exclaim, still surprised.

"He didn't see me coming back. He's dumb". She answers in a very monotone voice. "I was waiting for you".

"Hey, it's not like I'm late".

"I get bored easily", she explains, unfazed. "Come in".

You both get inside the apartment. The lights are dim, through windows covered with paper and glue or duct tape. You wonder why, it wasn't like that last time. You throw your bag over the old couch, as you throw yourself over it right after. It wasn't the most comfortable thing ever, but it's enough. Maggie, who you just notice was carrying a bag, goes into her room. You get comfortable while she does her stuff. You turn on the TV, just zapping through the channels, checking if anything interesting is on TV. Maggie told you last time she wanted to do something with you this time. You wonder what she had planned.

You start to notice other weird things in the apartment. There were many candles around. They don't look that fancy, but still a little bit weird. Your thoughts don't go further than a "huh" bouncing inside your head.

You turn on the TV, as you wait for your friend to come over. You didn't have much planned. You thought on just watching TV, chat a little bit, watch a movie, play videogames, stuff like that.

"Something to drink?" You hear her ask from wherever, while you search for something fun.

"Any beer?" You ask, trying to get the damn couch to be more comfortable to no avail.

"'K".

She comes back with a beer can for you, and also a crystal glass and a bottle of wine. She puts both things over a makeshift center table, made with a legless regular table and bricks. You notice it and smirk, looking at her from the corner of the eye.

"Fancy", you comment, as you grab the can and open it with one hand.

"I wanted to try something different", she said, pouring some into her glass.

You don't say anything else. One of her quirks, you think.

"There's a movie I want to see", she says, looking at you. "It's already there on the 'Flix".

You change the TV input to the streaming service, and you see at the first choice on a list a movie titled "Lords of Salem".

"Isn't this movie made by that one rocker dude?" You ask her, a little in disbelief.

"Yeah, but this one's good. Believe me".

"You sure you want to watch a horror movie though? I mean, you act all dark but you're a wuss", you say to her, chuckling.

"Oh, shut up", she answers. Although her tone barely changed, you can see her blush a bit.

Is this getting a bit weird or is it your idea?

You didn't notice you drank the full can in a minute. You still need booze.

You see the bottle. You've never tried wine before, but it's never too late. Or you could go check if there's any more on the fridge.

CHOOSE:

DRINK WINE

SEARCH FOR A BEER

CHOSEN: SEARCH FOR A BEER

You stand up and walk towards the fridge. However, you're interrupted before you get your hand on the handle.

"WAIT!", Maggie screamed in a way you never heard her express herself before.

You turn around, surprised. Her reaction scared you more than whatever movie you've seen.

"T-there's no more beer, that was the last one".

"Really? Damn". You answer, a bit bummed out.

"Don't you wanna try this?" She offers you, pointing at the bottle.

"Nah, I'm OK", you answer. "I won't drink anymore for tonight".

"Oh... Let's watch the movie then". You walk to the couch again, as she puts the movie to play.

"Where did you get this anyways? It has no label or anything".

"A friend gave it to me. I hoped you'd try it. It's pretty sweet".

You shrug. You remember trying a sip way back then. Your dad, knowing you'd probably hate it, let you try it when you were twelve, and you spat it out fast. It was nasty.

"The movie's starting", your dark friend says, as you both get more comfortable to watch the movie.

You cross your arms while watching the movie, trying to keep your head occupied. You actually didn't care much for horror movies. They didn't scare you or anything. Maggie insisted in watching them, even though she's not exactly the best at stomaching them. You see her shrink on her seat, as she tries to get closer to you. It's funny.

You listen to the movie a little.

"You must make peace with your subconscious desires".

"Really? What desires?".

"The wicked thoughts burning inside your head and exploding in the juices between your legs. The darkness within your very soul. The only reason you exist".

You feel a little bit in a trance, as you get a little more immersed in the movie. You weren't expecting to like it. It wasn't a masterpiece, but it had some interesting stuff in it. It also was pretty edgy, sometimes a little too much, but that was entertaining. Maybe not the intention, but whatever.

You suddenly, however, see Maggie a little bit too close to you. She's grabbing your arm, tightly. You try to get back a little, but she clings to you.

"OK, OK… Now this is too much…"

You were aleady kinda weirded out by some things you saw, but this is going over the "just friends" thing you had going on. Something is stranger than her attitude though.

Her breathing is heavy. Her grip is hard. Too hard. You try to get her hand off you, but it's almost impossible.

"Maggie, stop…" You insist, without her letting go.

"Come…" You hear from her, but in a voice different from hers.

"̸̱̱H̭͙͉̹̗͙́u̷̧͔͙̼̘̤̜h͎̤̯̖̭̱͉͖͟͢?̧̙̠"̫͜͢

͍͚͙͎̫̟"̷̱͎Ć̯̯͖̣̥̭̘͞͝O̧̘̭̪̙̠͙̰̼M͍͎̘͚͔̺͔͍̹͢͝E̛̫̮͜͠ͅ ̭̹W̩̖̣̺̳̯͠͞͠I̴̧̤̬͇̗͇͠T̶̶̳̠̲̫H̯͖̮͙̳͞ ̷̟̦̪̼M͔̹̙̫͓ͅE͓"̷̨̱̣̥͚̝̣̱̲

̟̳̭̙̼̀

̡̡̤̲̲͚̳̲͜C̹̺͓̥̟͎H̴̛̜̰̘͙̼O͓̦͚O̩̮S̶̛̞̰̯̦͙͎͓͟È͓͍̼̮͞

̷̡̫͉̙͇̼͙̲͞ͅY̶̢͚̪̰͚͡O̸̵̩͖̥͕̪̟̮̕Ú̱͖͔̪̹C̶͓͈̭̱̰͢Ą̶̻̳̫̣͚͔͕̱N̤̪͞T̜͝S͇͙̱͠T͏͔̣̺̺͇͎͔͚͘O̵̡̳̱͈̦͘P̻̻̲͙T͈̤H̴͚͔̫̜̣̱̭̥̪I͠͏̝̝̤̻̖S̠̠͙̠͓͟͢

̙͔̠͈̳̣̼̟̗̲͚̗̻̩̀͞͞Y̤̠̭̲̹͚̻̮O͉͉̕U̧̧͕̬͎͢D̷̦͈̬̙͍͇O̬͔̼̰̜̪͕̫̺̕N̶̝̖̻̤̹͙̕͝T͝҉̴͔̱̹̫̭̫͉͔H̷̩͚̖̗̲̟̗͜A̷͉̙̭̗͔͇͠V́͠͏͚̮͕E҉̶̺͇̙A̫̠̣͚̩̳̪̬ͅC҉҉̟H̝̩̤͕͘̕O̴͇̼̣ͅI̡͙͈̘̣͓͚̰͟ͅC҉͏̝̻͈̰͔̲͓ͅE͏̭̝͙̠

̰̼͎̙̟͎͢D̮̬͔͚̰ͅO̝̭͚̥͇͈̫͟ͅI̵̴͔̺̱̬̗̠̝̦T̷͎̰̘͜N̵̶̡͎̤͔̳̭̟Ó̭̭͟W̮̫̼̜̰̬͔ͅ

̧̢̢̭̮̜̺͍͠͏̪͉̗͍̻K̷̢̙̘͙̳̻̮͓̕I̧̱̳L͚̦̖̺͓͞ͅL̳̤͍̝͙̥͙̰̭̀͢

Are you now Lynn Loud Jr.?

You grabbed all your possessions you could and left, running. You hoped the sound of the TV would hide… Your blind rage? Something. You don't have a very clear image of what happened. Better not to think on it. The smashing, the blood, pouring from… And you kept going… Over and over, 'til blood gushed…

No, you didn't do that, did you?

No.

You are very wet when you get home, but you don't care.

A cup of water. No, Lisa's there. Lisa's in the kitchen. You said something, called her attention. She jumped.

"Lisa? What are you doing here?"

You don't know what she said, you don't care.

You did something.

Something very bad.

NO, IT WASN'T YOU

…Right?

Lisa left.

You get your cup, you drink, drop the water over a redded cleaver, you go to your room.

You didn't do it.

You didn't kill her.

…Right?

Or… You did. This is why you didn't have friends anymore. You were a wolf in sheep's clothing, preyed on them, made friends to crush them, to hurt them.

NO, YOU'RE NOT LIKE THAT.

Are you?

Were you a bloodthirsty beast, just waiting for the moment to attack, all this time?

Maybe you were.

Are you a wolf?

INTERLUDE END


	3. Interlude III: Hero

Godless Sound: Interludes

A Loud House Interactive Story

INTERLUDE III: HERO

You are now The Valiant Warmaiden.

You're tired. The enemy is too. The fight has drawn for what feels like centuries. The great beast is about to be slain, yet it has resisted with ferocious resolve. The power of your blade, however, is doubled, so you wouldn't waver either. It was an endurance battle; how long would it take for any of you to wear out and falter.

The other warriors didn't fight the beast much, it seems, so the battle has been hard for you, struggling against a formidable opponent who wasn't very tired at first. It's understandable, however, considering they didn't have the Lilac Sword, the blade with purple glint you held strongly in your hand. With the vital essence of your beloved friend, The Immortal Princess, and yours united once again, you would hold back the evils left by that wretched visitor from distant lands. Caexcors, the mighty dragon, would fall.

You exchange blows with the abhorrent beast. You block as much as you can with your shield, but it soon becomes useless after taking many hits. You block its scratches and bites with the unbreakable blade, and cut clean one of its many claws. The eldritch dragon lets out a painful roar, but it doesn't give up. Tentacles that came from the back of its amorphous skull grab you by your lower half, wrapping around you, pressing hard. Even if your armor was resistant, you could feel how it started crushing it, and close your bones would follow. It took you by surprise, and as much as you tried, the sword wouldn't cut them, as its light gets dim. The fiend moves you closer to his many jaws, like its going to eat you.

Caexcors' tentacles wrap you almost completely, but you manage to hold the sword tightly to your chest. The Chaos' Will moves you closer to its grotesque, multiple eyes, and a cacophony that sounded as an evil laughter came from its many jaws.

"Not even that love you profess for your sibling is enough to fight us, little girl", it growls. "If the flower will not be the one, then she will have to take her place!"

"Our power is more than you imagine, demon!" You shout with all your might, struggling to be free. "I am not just a little girl! I would sacrifice anything for my sister!"

"Is that so…?"It sinisterly gurgles. "Well then, be a sacrifice, lamb, and bleed for our Gods!"

The beast lifts you over its horrid head, and opens wide his biggest mouth, as he grips onto you even more. The pressure of its tentacles on your body becomes too excruciating. You scream in pain, but you do not falter. You feel a surge of power invade you. This is not your last breath.

It is now or never.

You free your blade from its tentacles' grip, slicing those evil tendrils. As you fall down, you prepare a swing, and the blade clashes against Caexcors' skull. The sound of steel and beastly flesh booms in your ear as the blow of two blades against each other. A blow between light and shadow blinds your eyes.

And you wake up.

You are now Lana Loud.

You hear your sister talking. You open your eyes, slowly.

"Wakey wakey, dear sister! My, you look atrocious. I mean, I was always the pretty one, but you don't need to reinforce our differences!"

You scratch your eyes and look at her. You're still a bit sleepy.

"That's better. Did you sleep well?"

You nod, yawning, stretching your arms.

"As a special treat, how about I make you breakfast? Well, it's not so special anymore since I've been doing it all week, but you deserve it. Do French toasts and milk sound good to you? Or would you prefer some deviled eggs and orange juice?"

CHOOSE:

FRENCH TOASTS AND MILK

DEVILED EGGS AND ORANGE JUICE

CHOSEN: EGGS

"Eggs", you tell her.

"Great. Wait for me, I'll be right back!" She leaves the room and goes to the hallway. "Lincoln! Help me make deviled eggs for Lana!"

"Why do you offer her stuff you can't make yourself?" You hear your brother groan.

"Just help me, OK? Or I'll tell dad you're being a meanie!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll go…"

"Thanks, Lincoln!"

You hear them go down the stairs.

You wait, fiddling your fingers. You try not to look at the things that loom from the door's frame. Or from below Lola's bed. Or crawling between your sheets, tickling your legs. They don't exist.

You wait for your sister.

You keep waiting.

You keep waiting.

They're here.

Inhale.

Hold it.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Hold it.

Exhale.

They don't exist.

You're about to freak out.

"Here they are!" You hear from your twin sister, coming with your meal on a platter. "Sorry it took me so long. Lincoln made me make them myself—I mean, he taught me to make them, so I could do them for you every day! Not like you should eat the same every day or anything, but…"

They don't exist.

"Hey, don't leave me hanging here!" She tells you, giggling a bit.

She notices your expression.

"Are you OK, Lana? You seem a bit startled".

They vanish.

You breathe.

You nod and grab the platter. You look at your food. The yolk mixture looks a little watery.

"Oh, the 'things', right?" She inquires, sitting on the bed, looking at you. "Still seeing them?"

You don't answer.

Lola sighs.

You start eating.

It's edible.

She stays silent.

You keep eating.

She looks at the floor.

You stop and look at her. She looks at you back.

"Oh sorry, I spaced off" She apologizes, smiling at you.

"It's OK" You mutter.

You get back to eat.

"You know, I was remembering school" Lola tells you. "I didn't mind back when I did my pageant stuff. I guess I didn't understand at that time. But nowadays… I know, I know, I'm beautiful and all that, but sometimes these 'admirers' get a bit tedious. Too 'demanding', you know what I mean?"

You nod. You drink.

"They're annoying" You confirm.

She chortles.

"Yeah, that too. It's not that I don't like people complimenting me from time to time, it's just… It's uncomfortable. The kids at our class, or the other class, some of those teenagers… I've even seen some teachers eyeing me! It's too weird!"

You cough. You take a sip at your drink.

"Are you alright?" She asks you, concerned.

You nod, hitting your chest with your fist.

"Just the food" You explain.

"Oh, OK" Lola says, relieved and oblivious. "Well, I was telling you about all that because I remembered when you stood up to some of the kids from that other class you used to hang out with. I remember when they were bothering me, you came around . Do you remember what you did?"

CHOOSE:

TOLD THEM OFF

KICKED THEM

CHOSEN: KICKED THEM

"I kicked them?" You answer, a bit unsure.

"Right at their groins!" Lola exclaims, imitating the gesture from her seat beside you. "And then a teacher saw you doing that, and made you go to detention and gave you a sermon all the way to that room. You got into trouble and lost them as friends, but you didn't care".

She looks at you tenderly. You look at her back.

"You did it for me, and now that I think about it, I never thanked you for that".

You look at your food.

"Thank you, Lana".

You look at her back and smile.

"You're welcome".

You continue eating.

There's the tickling again. You keep eating.

There's nothing there. There's nothing there. There's nothing there. There's nothing there.

"Careful!" Lola calls out, grabbing your platter before you drop it over the bed, and leaving it on the night table.

"They're here, the things…"

You're hyperventilating.

"Oh darn, where are you seeing them?"

"My legs…"

Your twin sister slaps your legs over the sheets with her hands, softly, as if she was hitting the things you were seeing. You don't know why, but that helped. The tickling stops. They disappear. There's nothing there now. You are still a bit hyperventilated.

"It's over now, right?" Your sister asks, worried. "Do you need one of your pets? Maybe Izzy II, or Hops? Maybe El Diablo?"

CHOOSE:

IZZY II

HOPS

EL DIABLO

CHOSEN: IZZY II

"Izzy" You answer, putting a hand on your chest.

"OK, wait a second, and calm down, please?"

You nod. Breathe. Inhale. Hold it. Exhale. There's nothing there.

"Now, Izzy, come here…" You see your sister by the corner of your eye. She seems a bit uncomfortable grabbing the reptile from its cage. "C'mon…Your master needs you, little girl… There you go".

She carefully lays the lizard over you. You feel it walking over your body, going up to your shoulder. It tickles, but it feels good. You start to calm down. You caress the reptile's scaly head, feeling its cold skin. You relax little by little. Your tensed muscles rest, your heart stops to race.

Your sister sits on the bed again. She pets Izzy too, somewhat timidly.

"I can understand sometimes why you like your animals so much… They're oddly beautiful, and soothing, like a peaceful beast watching over you".

There's still food.

"Do you want to keep eating?" Lola asks, noticing you looking at the half-eaten breakfast.

You shake your head.

"You lost your appetite, I guess. I hope it's not because I'm a bad cook".

She kinda was, but that isn't the reason.

"I lost my appetite" You confirm, feeling the skin of your pet with the tip of your fingers.

"Well, I'll take the platter and leave it on the kitchen".

"No!"

"Huh?"

"Stay, please".

You don't tell your sister the reason, but she understands why.

You don't want them back.

"OK, I'll stay" She answers to your plea, sitting again at your side. She smiles to you, but it's not a very radiant smile, as she uses to have.

Silence. Tranquility. Respite. A sigh.

"Remember this year's Halloween? Wasn't it a huge drag?"

You nod. You don't remember it very well, however.

"We were out like twenty or thirty minutes before going back. We still got a few candies, anyways, right? But it was a lot less than last year. I remember when you actually scared smaller kids with your 'earth monster costume', rising from a mud pond and walking towards them. They dropped everything and we collected the spoils. Remember that?"

You nod.

You didn't.

"This one sucked. Even not counting Lucy's incident and all, it still felt pretty bad".

Her view goes down. You feel her shake.

"I don't know, that guy… I know, it was Halloween and the suits and disguises but… He wasn't trick-or-treat scary, he truly gave me the creeps with those weird markings on his face, and with good reason".

You don't remember.

CHOOSE:

ASK ABOUT IT

DON'T ASK

CHOSEN: ASK

"What guy?" You ask.

"Oh, I guess you forgot", she says, a bit disappointed. "It's fine. It's not your fault. Just a creepy dude wandering the vicinity, I guess. He didn't look like anybody from our neighborhood, surely. All his talk about us being 'perfect vessels' for whatever thing, it was weird".

"Didn't Lori go with us?" You comment, half remembering.

"Fighting with her boyfriend through the phone, as usual", she answers. "I guess she couldn't pay attention. We're big girls, I thought, but at that moment, I really felt we needed her".

Silence. Unease. Discomfort. A sigh.

"He…"

She starts a sentence, but didn't continue.

"He got so close and…"

She can't.

"I'm just happy we were together", she says, finally. A melancholic smile.

You feel powerless.

"Did I stop him from hurting you?" You ask, worried and angry at the same time.

"Hurting me…"

You shrink in your bed. Almost instinctively you grab your sheets tightly.

"You did" You're not sure if she's being sincere. "You bought time until Lori could scare him off".

She begins to tear up a bit.

"I'm so sorry I made you go through this. Lisa says it's only temporary, that it's just trauma, with all that weird stuff being dreams and all… I didn't want you to be like this now, with your brain all messed up".

You look down, looking at the eyes of your amphibian/reptilian friend, like searching for something.

"Why did you do that? Lisa told me they were keeping you out and then you stormed in…"

You don't answer.

You know why you did it. You can remember that.

She looks to you tenderly.

"You know you're great, right? Not only last week, or at school. You've always been good to me. We always joke about you being older than me and all, for being born like… How much was it? One minute before?"

"Two minutes".

She giggles.

She now looks at the floor.

"Still, you act like the big sister, and protect me, always. We bicker and fight sometimes because of stupid things, but I want you to know that never mattered in the end. What truly matters is you're my twin sister, and you're the best thing you could have ever happened to me".

You feel your eyes water up. Lola's look watery too. She wipes both hers and yours with her stylish scarf.

"We have to be strong, Lana. We've suffered many things since our little sister's departure. I feel like a coward sometimes, being still afraid of monsters in the dark, or in the neighborhood, inside their homes, waiting to creep on us… But with you, life is easier, because I know I have you by my side. And I want you to feel the same way. I want you to feel you can depend on me…"

She was trying to hold it, but she couldn't. She hugs you. You hug her back.

"I'm so sorry I failed you again".

Again?

She separates from you, and wipes her tears off with her scarf.

"Well, we've been here too long now!" She says, standing up, trying to be cheery again. "How about we go to the yard and take a bit of fresh air, or go around the neighborhood and have a stroll? It's sunny, and just after the rain!"

CHOOSE:

GO TO THE YARD

GO AROUND THE NEIGHBORHOOD

CHOSEN: YARD

"Just the yard" You answer, preferring the comfort of your home.

"It's settled then!" She says. She walks to the door, but stops. "Wait, I can't leave you alone… Lincoln!"

"Why do you have to scream to me? I'm at my room", you hear your big brother groan again.

"Can you go get Lana's wheelchair?" Your sister asks.

"Sure, sure…" He articulates between yawns, getting out of his room and going down the stairs.

Lola takes your pet off you, carefully, and places it back on its cage. She smiles to you tenderly, as you two wait for your older brother to report back. Lincoln comes back pretty fast.

"Need help in getting this lazy bum off her bed?" He jokes, looking at you two.

"Please?" Lola asks, fluttering her eyes.

"Yeah, I imagined so".

Your sister and him help you get dressed. It's hard when your body reacts so terribly at everything, or your legs can barely move. When that's done, Lincoln lifts you up in his arms, and go down the stairs. Lola follows, and gets behind the wheelchair. Your brother places you on the seat, and kisses your forehead.

"Be safe, you two".

"Thanks, Lincoln!" You two say in unison.

Lola pushes you forward, and get out. With some difficulty, Lola manages to get down the two steps of the house entrance without letting you fall from your seat.

"We really need a ramp" Lola complains.

You chuckle a bit, even though you can barely express the happiness of being with your dear sister.

Well, my hero, let's go have a good day!".

INTERLUDE END


	4. Interlude IV: Lullaby

Godless Sound: Interludes

A Loud House Interactive Story

INTERLUDE IV: LULLABY

You are now… Luna Loud… You think.

Your mind feels submerged in a sea of dreams. The flow of time and your perception of space feel altered, but not like by the psychedelia of colors emitting sounds or the drowsiness of demons in bottles. You feel your body constrained, but not by anything physical, anything you can comprehend. Your eyes are open, but you see nothing; only darkness. You have faint memories of yourself, and a very limited consciousness of your own existence. You're not sure if you're you.

"Don't bother yourself with the illusion of a real world" You hear in a melodic voice, soothing and relaxing, but at the same time resounding and ominous. "Reality is nothing but the absurd perceptions of those who can't see beyond their own eyes".

You don't say anything. You're not sure if you can talk. You're not sure if you know how to. You're not sure if you exist. Another name resounds in your head, one that sounds so familiar, yet so distant… Lurlene?

What is going on?

No. You are Luna Loud. You now know.

You regain a bit of conscience. You remember yourself now. You are Luna Loud, lead and founder of Clubhead, your first band that managed to be outside of a garage and little saloons. You still don't get to that world fame every artist wants, to snort happy dust from the bodies of sexy men or women and then search for a tragic death when traversing the boulevard of broken dreams, but you'll get there.

You were having a few troubles with Luan. She blamed bad luck, which in part it was true: you know she is talented. However, she wasn't bringing enough money to the table, while your band had mild success, enough to support both of you. If her comedy didn't, then she should have gotten a job somewhere, right? She always pointed out, however, how lazy you were at home duties, like helping at cleaning, or paying the bills, or anything that wasn't to rock and roll all night. She was somewhat drunk ―unsurprisingly― and aggressive, and you got somewhat angry too. Maybe rubbing on her face the fact that you were at least getting some "action" while she had to stay at home alone drinking away her tears of loneliness was the last straw between you two.

Since she was already leaving to visit the family due to Lucy's suicide attempt, you would stay at the little studio you were renting in this state, and take this opportunity as a breather. You two would think things over, and maybe come up with a new arrangement, either to keep living together or split up. Both of you were angry that day, you said things you shouldn't have. Maybe it was for the best if one of you was away. You wanted to see the folks again too, but the coin flip favored your sister.

You took the opportunity to travel alone with your band, go on tour, even if that "tour" was only going to other clubs and bars that had a lack of live music. Your followers were more numerous on the internet than in real life, and it showed when there'd be like one person in every bar that would even know you existed. That's why you ended in this town, at the other side of the Miskatonic River.

You feel your phone vibrating. That's odd. You weren't in your house now… Were you? Were you dreaming? When did you go to sleep? You are now in your little rented studio at Rue d'Auseil; everything messed up as always, with a couple of empty bottles laying on the ground and makeshift beds. You almost forgot you had that gig tonight, and you haven't even cleaned. Luan is right, sometimes.

You grab your phone and see the screen. You assumed it was Tabby at first, who's your current second guitar and back-up vocals, and she's very stingy with time, but the phone doesn't show her name, and you don't recognize the number.

Will you answer?

CHOOSE:

YES

NO

CHOSEN: YES

You take the call and get the phone close to your ear. There is only silence for a while, but not a simple silence of bad connection. Someone was there, you could hear the ambience on the other side of the line, slightly. Then, you started to hear breathing, and only that. A very heavy breathing, sending shivers to your spine.

"Hello?" You ask.

"Dear lady, please. It's time to wake up from your slumber. Wake up, Lurlene"

You look in front of you now, in the reflection of a mirror you see someone else, someone very similar to you. Or is it you? Who is this person? It can't be you… Or can it? Is your name Luna Loud?

Isn't it Lurlene?

You hear the call of a man, someone you vaguely recognize. It sounds like a young man with a very sweet voice. You feel its pull towards you. You don't know why, but you walk towards it, through a long hallway that seems impossibly long, infinite. The voice still calls you. Who is this man? He sounds so loving, someone you loved.

"Come here, Lurlene! We'll miss the train!" He says, as you try to get closer and closer to the voice.

You walked first, but now you're running. You're wearing a big dress that almost makes you trip. It doesn't matter, you need to get there. Who's calling you? Why do you need him?

You looked at the paintings in the hallway. You see the pictures of a lady with a strange mark on her face. Is that you? You feel like it is, but at the same time she feels alien, an "other" you never met.

"Lurlene, come on!"

You are getting closer to the end of the infinite hallway. Paintings show you – That lady and a numerous family; another, her and your uncle –an old man you don't know, perhaps. Under it a plaque reading "Lurlene and Erich". Then you see another picture of you and a young man, with a plaque that only read "Lurlene and Marius Martense". Martense.

Martense.

Martense.

Martense.

Martense.

Martense.

"Marius Martense!" You hear, before getting to the end of the hallway.

There seems to be a discussion going on behind a door that is now in front of you, one you didn't notice it was at stick your ear over it to hear the conversation. He sent a servant to tell you to come visit him, he had a very urgent thing to say to you. But seems like he wasn't alone: his father got there first.

"What are you doing, young man?" You hear from the other side of the door.

"I'm leaving with her. We already decided it".

"You have a duty".

"I won't take it. This is madness".

"It's not for you to decide, my child. You have to— "

"No! I won't continue this any further! Don't you see it's that cursed… thing what is causing this?"

"It's not a curse, it is a blessing. You just don't want to see further than your own eyes".

"I will not hear any more of this. Disown me if you want, strip away all my possessions, my name, whatever you want, but I won't stay with this family so you can strip away my soul!".

"You can't escape it, Marius. It will find its way to you, and you'll become its bearer".

There's a long silence, you can't distinguish what is happening now.

You hear someone approaching. The door slowly opens. Maybe it was him, Marius Martense.

Martense.

Martense.

Martense.

You gasp, a scream drowned in your horror. You cover your mouth as you wake up, violently standing up from your seat, an automatic response from instinct.

You're now Lurlene Zann, a child from an aristocrat German family that got to New England.

Yes, that's who you are. You're sure now.

The train stopped. This is your last station. The rest of the trip to Michigan would be with a caravan. It'd take some time, but you'd be far from the feud tearing Marius' and your family apart. You could live together happily, as you wanted to. You'd miss your uncle. He always distrusted the Martense family, but he saw some good in Marius, or else he would have opposed your relationship with him, as the rest of the family did. His blessing was the only thing you really needed to leave.

You look at Marius with tenderness, him being so comfortable in the uncomfortable seat, covered with his own jacket as a sheet. It almost makes you sad you have to wake him up.

Will you wake him up, or will you let him sleep a few minutes more?

CHOOSE:

WAKE HIM UP

LET HIM BE

CHOSEN: LET HIM BE

You can't bring yourself to wake him up. You wait placidly, looking out of the window. He'll wake up soon enough, or maybe the wagon attendant will come around to tell all passengers they've arrived to their destiny.

You look out of the windows, seeing the cold morning and grey clouds awaiting you outside of this train. The sky looks sad, and in a way, it is a mournful day. You're now separated from your family, which you cherished, but wouldn't accept your love. You couldn't even say goodbye to the only one who, at least, didn't show any apprehensions to it: your uncle Erich.

You look at the case of your violin, and grab it to see the instrument itself. The only thing you had to remember him. Being a childless widower, you were the daughter he never had, and being mute, the only one he could talk with. The universal language of music let him speak, and you could have long "conversations" with him that way. Maybe soon you could play music again, to remember those days.

"We have arrived, passengers!" You hear the assistant say to everyone in the wagon. "Please start getting ready to leave!"

Your lover gets woken up by this, and he slowly opens his eyes. Your eyes meet, and you smile.

"Did you sleep well?" You ask to him".

"Yes, yes" He assures, yawning. "It was a pleasant ride".

"Let's go. The train is departing soon".

"Oh, right. We don't want to go back, do we?"

You snicker.

"Pray to God we never do".

Slowly you get out of the train, trying to avoid the multitude blocking your path. The place seemed a bit full, more than you'd expect on a day so gray, announcing its coming rain. And it's colder than usual. You never felt that much cold around these parts, but Marius really seemed to not like the cold gusts of wind in this muddy climate.

"How can you tolerate this?" He says, shivering.

You snicker gently, covering your mouth.

"The cold winter wind in Germany made my heart warm, as I saw the snowflake's ballet from my window".

Your eyes show a feeling of longing, something he could perceive.

"Snow falls here too, you know. We'll have that too in Michigan. You'll like it there, I'm sure, not as swampy as around here, that's for sure".

"The farthest we can go from Arkham, the better. Cursed place, that is…"

"Can't agree more".

Your lover searches for something to brace himself for the coming storm. The wind started to get a bit warmer, which meant the downpour would soon follow. However, he stops searching at some point, and remains static. You didn't pay much mind at first, until you felt a little water drop fall over your nose. The rain is coming.

"You better get your coat soon, my love" You say, turning to him.

You see him standing with his head down, looking at the bottom of the case he just opened. He's staring at it, like one looks at a dark abyss, searching for the end of an infinite hole.

"No…"

"What's going on, Marius?"

"No, get out! I won't continue this madness!"

You back off a few steps, as he starts getting louder. You're a bit scared, what is going on with him?

"We have to leave, just leave now! Now!"

"Marius, calm down. What is going on?"

"I WON'T CONTINUE THIS LEGACY OF INSANITY!"

He pulls you from your hand, almost making you drop the case of your violin, the only thing you manage to keep with you, leaving all other possessions behind.

"͔͚̻̠͉͐̈Y͖̱̜͇ͩO̝̪̝͛̇ͪ̔ͦͅU̔ͬ͆̈́̉͜'̢̦̱̪̮ͩ͑ͅL̩̂ͩL̗̿̋ͩ ̧̿͋ͭB̤̋ͤ͗̍ͯR̫̓ͅỈ̢̎Ń̡̪̙̩̋ͣ̌͆͐G̦̤͇̩̓̾̑́̓̚ ̗͖T̷͇̬̎̒ͪO ̯͗̈́̋ͤ͡Ü̫̣S̱͉͍͈͖̯̣̏̇͑͑͊ ̂͞T̨̬̮͙̖̣͉̎͆ͮ̀Ĥ͈͉̟̙̥̈́̍̏̚Ȇ̖̖̹̘̀̐̿ͩ ̞̦̟̙̜̣̊͢H͙̣̜̩̪̬͌̆ͣ̃͑͌Ḛ͔̿͌ͣ̃ͯͨR͔̯ͦ̉Ä͓́͋͋̒͊͝L̨͖ͮ̀͋D̷͔͚̓!̆ͩͪ̾ͯ̀ͤ͘ ̦̟̭̘̪̮͉̃̏͛̎͒Y̴͇̗ͬ͋͒̓̑̾O̷ͯ͊͒̈ͮ͂U̝̜̪̮̇̃͝ ̫͂͑W̙̩̖̜ͭ̿̄̓I̯͈͑ͯͤ͋̇̽ͯĻ͚ͣ̆̈̈̓L̞̭̺̼̤ͩ̕ ̢̪̦͎͇ͧͨ͗̋ͬB̘̭̺̩͚̟͈R̞̥I̡̳͕̰̗̻̤̼ͤ̿͂ͮ̒ͩN͓̖̱̋ͫ̓͋̚ͅG͙̰͚̣͉̞ ̗̝̹̰̿ͩ͌ͣ̽Ť̰̮̟̻̮͇́ͮͧͪͪO͇̥̣̽͌̓ͬ̂͗̚ ̩͓̤͚̞͖̬̋͐ͩ͆͟U͈͓S̭͉͘ ͓̰͐ͤ̀̃ͬͨṬ̪̟̮̼ͣ̏H̜̮͇̟̼̮̺̎̑Ȅ̫̬̙̀̑ͯͮ͜ ͙̟̳͕E̦̩̫̖̮͛ͭͅN̜̪͈͕̮̟̓ͭ̔͌ͅḒ̶̙̦̎͒͐ͭͮ͌ ̼̭̥͖̳̱̘̓Ô̧̗͎̻̩̊F͓͈̺͍̜̬ͧ ̴͙̘͇͔͈͈Ẹ̙̻͇̗͓X̙̙͍̻ͫͅI̵͉̰͆̀̂̈S̸̓͊ͯT̯̺ͭ̉ͦ́Ȅ̴̦̟̺̼̺́̄͐̒̑Ṇ̨̦̪͚ͫ͒͌̄̔C͇͕͛ͬ͐̚E͔̥̊̈́!̤̘ ͓ͪ͞Ẇ̢͙̦̪͕̗̹̃̑̎E͌̽̎̄͐͞'́̿ͦ̇̌L̘̯̪̠̱̠͓̃Lͨ͑̿͊ͦ̑̓ ͂ͤḆ̜̼͈̖̋̿̌̔͐̐̂E͚̙̣͕͂ ̙̹̞͊̇͆̍͝C̵̟̜͚̩̦͆ͯH͙̘̞̬̗́̎ͩͨ̀̌ͅA̻͓̘̗̍ͯ̋̈́ͅṐ̶̗̜͚̠͋͊̚S̮͕̮͙̠͋̎ͨͩ̌́ͤ ̙̱͎͖̀Ọ̯͎̮̠̮̪͑͊̍̓N͈̟̬̼͖̱ͤ̊͛͋ͮ͢C̥ͪ́͠E̘̹̝̯̣̰ͭ͌ ͌̐̓A̝̱̩͖̤̝̹͂ͣͧ̃̇̈́G̳̻͙̞̣͒̔̍̽Â̹͓̫I̳̮̼͕̙̦͌͠Ñ̦̞̳͓ͣͯͣ!͢"ͨ̐̾

You jump back, seeing now just darkness.

It oppresses you, you feel it weighing you down, you feel yourself drowning on it, like it was tar oozing over your body, inside your lungs, little by little possessing your whole being.

"Give in. Don't resist it. Your mind will be consumed, and the past will come to the present".

You try to fight that voice inside your mind, the melodic soprano that tries to capture your thoughts. You want to be you, nobody else. But you have trouble knowing who you are. Who are you?

Then a light is turned on.

You're Luna Loud. You're not sure, but you don't feel like… Whoever that other woman was… Not now. Who was her?

You're in the club. You just ended your performance with light approval from the attending public. Most of them were too drunk to listen, or too horny to concentrate on anything else than your body or Tabby's. Another lowly bar just to pay the bills.

It sucks when your passion becomes your work, because you start to hate it. You hate the public, you hate having to find bandmates that could actually play, having to deal with greedy bar owners who want cheap entertainment, having to meet strict deadlines and time slots. What difference does it have to work in a cubicle or work in a stage, if you're still getting lashed by the oppressive boredom of having a job?

Since this was also a very cheap owner, half of your payment came on free beverages in the club. You couldn't get any other place in this dead town, and you can't always get what you want. You'd make sure to drink half of their reserves if that meant getting paid more than they expected to waste on your talent. If Luan was around, you were sure the open bar would have to be closed. Tabby wasn't around to help with your mission either; probably too busy getting a tongue inside her mouth with the drummer you hired.

You drink your beer alone, checking on your phone. A few messages from Luan, telling you she's getting home.

You miss being there. The easy life of a suburban family, when it was just you, Chuck and the small gigs at contests, parties and the garage. No pressure for money, to pay rent, to be responsible. Rock and Roll wasn't the thing that you felt. You haven't felt it ever since you left. Not ever since Lucy's incident. Not ever since Lily's.

You take a big gulp from the beer can you were holding, and sigh profoundly.

You need a cigarette.

You search between your pockets and find your pack, still with enough cigs for the night. It's kinda funny how, despite all the stereotypes, you never went that wild in your teenage years. You tried to smoke, but you hated it; you tried to drink, but you never got the taste. Now, you need to fill your lungs with the tasty nicotine, and a beer or two never are unwelcomed. Sometimes you think on how much fun you missed back then for trying to be a good girl.

You found a cig, but no lighter. You couldn't find any on your pockets, and you were reluctant to ask the people around. Nobody seemed like a friendly person, or at least not genuinely.

You thought you'd just have to wait for another moment, but an enticing voice surprises you, one you heard but couldn't see from where it came.

"Need a light?"

You turned back, trying to see the origin. You were sure the person was behind you, but then the person calls your attention touching your shoulder. He was at your side, actually. Maybe you were distracted, and the cacophony of this little bar made you think the voice came from somewhere else. Still, weird.

"I noticed you don't have any" The man says, showing you his lighter.

He didn't look like a very common person. Not many did in here, granted, but the markings on his face made him stand out; scarifications mixed with tribal tattoos, and an eye tattooed on his forehead. His face was the only weird part, however, wearing only a gray hoodie and blue jeans.

"Good show, by the way".

"Oh, sure, thanks, mate" You manage to blurt out, still a bit weirded out by his appearance.

"So, will you…?"

He points out at the flame coming from his lighter.

You're not sure if to trust this man. Like, it's just his lighter, right? No need to pay attention to his weird figure. But you still got a bad vibe from him. Not in the same way that the old perverts checking you out or the suspicious people looking for an opening to take your wallet. He gave another kind of sense, you couldn't say what, but surely in the same way somebody would feel if they saw a satanic ritual. You still need that cigarette though.

What will you do?

CHOOSE:

ACCEPT

DENY

"No thanks, I think I'll just… Keep drinking".

You get the cig back to its box and try to ignore the guy. You're not sure it's a good idea to talk with him.

Even though he really wanted to talk with you.

"I've been following you".

"That's very comforting" You answer, sarcastically.

"I know how it sounds, but trust me I don't mean it in that way. You have talent. Your compositions are something that need to be heard further than just a club in the middle of nowhere".

"A fan of the band, then?"

"Certainly".

"Good to know. Thanks for following us then".

"An icy heart you're showing, however".

You're being a bit cold to him, admittedly, but it's better you do. You aren't the type to talk to strangers which might be into a cult.

"I understand" He continues. "I'm guessing all this on my face doesn't give a good first impression. How about I cover it?"

You snicker, covering your mouth to not seem too uneducated.

"Sure, sure".

He searches for something from below his seat, a bag he was carrying, it seems. He puts it over the table to search a bit better for… whatever he's looking for.

"You know, I'm also the owner of this place".

"Are you? I thought it was that fat dude at the counter".

"He's just part of our group" He explains. "I send him to talk with people when I'm out, working on the rest of our plans".

"Ah". You keep the uninterested act, trying to see if he gets bored of your wall of indifference.

"We also have a brewery. You're drinking one of our beers. Does it taste good?"

You're a bit surprised by that fact. You didn't really question the origin of your beverage. It did taste well, although nothing that particular, even though you didn't notice when you emptied your jar.

"Huh" You say, looking at the bottom of your vase.

"Specially made for you, dear lady".

You turn back to him when he refers to you in that way. What the hell…?

And then you see his mask.

"̛̫̻̺̙͖ͬC͚͂ͅH̻̘̬̣͉̄̀A̪͔̥̖̭ͤͦͩͤ̌͌O̤̦̥̜͙̣̕S̖̭̱̊̊ͧͫ̐͢ ̤̝͖̺̮̞͛̈́ͭ̑́ͅC̩̈́̊ͪ̈́ͫ͜R̻̘̠̪̐ͯ̾À̮ͫ̾̓͆ͣ̄W̡͇͚͍͆ͧ̐ͫL̫̹̚S̡̤̯͖̫̙̺̗̐̈̓ͭ́ ͣͧͮ̊Ṱ̯͓̙͎̗ͨ̀̿͘O̪̹̿ ̰͖͚̖̄US̻͔͎͍,͖̻ͤͫ ͍̬̺̙͖̃̓̄̽Ŵ͊͌̓͢Ë̙̝̝͔̩͇̝́͟ ̡͔ͭS̜̙̰̜Ȇ̱͍̤̯ͪ̋͑Eͫ̍ͮ̑ͧ̇ ̺̳͚̘̠ͫ͐͞I̧͈̠̞̽̈̉̀͌T̵̪̱̰̗ͭ ͫͮ̑ͫ̈̔͠C͍͇̣̩̱̻̏̈́ͭ̂͗͛ͬO̘̤͈͇͉̿̈́̒͜M͈͗ͤ̃̉̋͠I̻̩̍̈́́̊N̸̠̗̜̹̤͑̂̎̍ͫG̪̗͔͉!̧̼͎͓̼̟͙̥͊ͩ͛ͮ ̥͇̠̖̘͚S̜̥͊͂̒ͩͨ̉O̵̗̼͕̱͍͂ͯ̐̽ͅÕ̥̃͛̆ͮ̿̚͝N̠̦͇̜̈́́̎̀ ̨̖̣̬E͈͔ͪ͊̓ͅX͍͉ͨͣ̔̓̒ͯḬ̬̩̘̟̱͑S̭̺͔͖͉͗̾͆̎T̜̘͛E̯̪͉̭N̜̙̝̳̗̖̼͘C͓E̳͕̝̩ͫ̔ͧ͌ͬ ̷̻͖͖̳̼͐ͭW̺͚͖͖̭̒ͪ̓ͨ̍̽I͎̦̱̭̣̗̹̎ͭ͌͑L̜͖̎̄̆̽̚Ḻ̘ͨ̾͂̉̈́ ͈̩Bͤ͋͋̒ͧ̀Ë̢̤́ ̤͖ͮͮ̋͌D̮̏ͨ̀̚Ȩ̗͕̱̮̗ͪ̑V͇̫͙̣̼͛̓͑ͩ̎̊ͧͅO̬͙̪̟̞̺̗ͣ̒̀Ṷ͖̊Ŕ̝̬̘̖̒̔͢ͅͅE̸͔̘̠̯ͭͧͤͩ̚D̜̦ͧ͑ ͈B͢Ỵ̳̏̕ ̮̭̬̩͓͈͖̄̄̀̚N̺̘̔̀͝O̱̞̜̬̥͔͌̋̑̄̈̎T͍͔̺̱ͫ͆ͧ̃Ḫ̢̠̤̤̍̉I̸̾̓̓̊̒̊N̺̩̍͛͡ͅG͚͕͔ͧ̾̃̋ͤN̙͈̏͠Ě͇̤̤̺̩̍̓ͮ̄̚͜ͅS͉̗ͦ͛̿͢S̹̆́̍̽̆ͮͣ!̰͔̯̺͌̊ͤ͝"̭̼̘̯̫͒ͭ̌ͨ̔ͪ͞

You snap back into reality, into the current existence. You're still you, or so you think.

You're in an empty room. The oppressive darkness you felt pushing your body in isn't around anymore, but there's no light source that lets you see what is around. You stand up from the ground you're lying on, trying to find something you can recognize.

Light flickers in the ceiling. You catch a few glimpses of what is around: an old mattress, a chair. The door. You walk slowly to it just to find out it's locked.

Wait, your guitar is here too!

You almost stumble on your own feet trying to reach it, but you got to it. You can feel it, it's real. You're real now. You're here, and you're scared, but at last you feel you're being you. Your old guitar that has been by your side for so long, the one thing that keeps you in this reality. You feel the need to play it, at least as something to calm yourself.

You slide your fingers on the strings, not playing anything in particular, just feeling the long neck of your axe. It relaxed you, made you feel at home, wherever you were right now. It's soothing.

All the things you felt up until now… They felt like you were walking into your memories, but you don't remember being someone else than you. What was that other lady? Who was that man?

"You're confused, dear lady?" You hear, almost making you drop your guitar.

"Who are you?"

"Might as well tell you, since you'll soon fulfill your purpose. I am Marten, and you are my lost lover, our dear leader".

"What?"

"You are the very same image of your ancestor, don't you think?"

The lights stop flickering, and now you can see a bit more of what is around you. You can see a painting of this other woman… Was it truly somebody else? Besides the hairdo and that mark on her face, she looked eerily like you.

"It almost makes me believe destiny exists" You hear the voice say.

"Where are you?" You question, trying to find from where is he talking.

You hear the voice resound in the room, but you're not sure if it's coming from anywhere. That is, until you see the ceiling directly.

Many worm-like creatures stuck to the ceiling, each with a big eye on them looking directly at you.

"You'll see me again soon enough, when I get rid of a little problem…"

"What do you mean?"

"Seems like the cursed nest you came from caught wind of our operations. But don't you worry, Lurlene…"

"That's not my name" You bark, defiantly.

"It doesn't matter who you think you are" The voice says. "It doesn't matter who you see yourself as. You can't see as well as I do".

All the eyes in the ceiling concentrate on you. You feel their eyes piercing your skull, almost, like trying to get inside your mind. That darkness is coming back, you're losing your senses. You're starting to forget who you are.

You're Luna Loud. You're Luna Loud. You keep repeating that in your head, trying to keep that sliver of identity you have left. The memories of a dead woman creep inside your brain, the memories of Lurlene Zann.

"No, stop it!" You protest, trying to get the worms out of your head.

"You don't have to stop anything, dear" The ominous voice tells you. "Just let it come to you. Let the old memories of your ancestry possess you. You'll be better suited for us that way".

You can't stop it, it's coming to you. You try to fight them the only way you managed to keep your sanity all this time. You played your guitar, trying to remember the countless tunes you've composed, those you based on your life, those you were your essence. For a long time, you evaded yourself in music, trying to forget of the pain of losing your little sister, of your family breaking apart little by little, of the countless fights. Now, the same music you used to escape your life, you needed it to get back to it.

But you couldn't.

You're nobody.

You are not Luna Loud.

"̾͒͑̋ͩͣ̄T̫͕͐H̜̮̦̉E̞̺ͣ̉ͭͦ ̙̮̠̔͌͒͊͗É͙̪̙̱̦̼̦̀͒̍̾̒Á̞͕͍̹̮̝͒̒R̼͚̰̻̜̙̓̐ͤ͒T̖͔̼̱̭̮̹ͤ̊ͩ̃H̦̼̬͛̈͂̾ͧͮ ̙̞̞̳̊̔̋ͅW̞ͫ͊̂ͦḮ͓̞L̻̟̬̓͒Lͧ͋̐͆͒ ͕̠B̙̪̪͉͍̙͕͗͑̓͑ͤE̪̪̰̠̳͂ͭ ͙̫͉̦̼̘́̈̊̏ͪ̇Ț̘̩̠̥͕̔ͮ̓̊̔̏̐ͅH̖͎͛̿̀̿̽ͩ̚Eͣ͛͋̓ͅ ̗̗̣͎͈̉̃ͮ̃F͍͉̞̭ͤ̽̋̏E͇̥̱̦͆̈́̍͐A̳̻̘̐̽͌ͩ͛͋̚S͐̍̍̄ͪT̤̹͙̩̠̄̃ͩ ̪̖̞̩̟ͅO̯F̮̦͓̹̰̳ͮ̓ ͔̝͕̫T̻̩̞͕H͕͛ͯͨͮE̝̦̱̣̳̒̌̄̾ ̼̰͔̦̃̌O̞͔̮̳̞͕͆̔ͫL̰̼̖ͮ̄ͯͬ̑D̗̘̻ͪ ̤͔̰̣ͭO͙̭͚̱̙̗ͬ͌̒̾NͫĒͫ͂ͧͫ̎S͉̝̞͙̮ͨ͗̉ͪ!̳̀͌̂͋̀̄̂ ͯ̏I̹̺͙̞̘ͪ̂ͨͨT̳͇͇̙͉ ͇̼̩̮̜̣W͍͍͙̻͈ͨ̈́̐ͤͣĬ̜̬̪̯͉ͮ̇͛̾L̰̬̤̗̫͒̔L̝͓ ̍͐͗ͣ̊ͭB͖͚͖͉̈́̊͗ͣE̺̰̟̼͕̙̰̒͒ ͖̣̟̘ͩD̜͚̗̳̪̹̃E̬ͧͮͫ͋ͤ̊͒V̠̿O͊̋̌̋U͍̟̘R̩͇̻͔̎̂Ẻ͉͔͙ͫͤ̄D̖̬̼͗́̐͒̚ͅ ̻̖͎͉͈́̃́̉̑̀͑A̫̺̰ͅN̼̭͔͈͍̆ͮ̐ͬ͆̓̚D̜̳̹̠ͮ̓̈ͯ͒ ̪̤͚͇͖͙̀̎ͦ̎T̙̦̰͔̬̝̦̉͗́H̘̬̖́ͅE̠̙͍͚̹̎̽ ̠̹͉̋̆̌ͅV̫͖͍͙͂̋ͦ͋̏ͣ̿O̭͋̍I̝͚͇̝̺ͮ̓D̙ͦͣ̃̃ ̪̭͒͒́̓̚W̳͒̄ͣͮḬ̫̤͚̯̌̓̊͗͑ͅL̫̫̤̮̖͎̰̓L̳͎̫͔̺͓̆̋̿ͤ̚ ̰̩̣̳̈́̊B̰ͣͫͪE̳͆̓̉ ̗̦̼̬͚̯͗A͓͎̞̿̐ͯL̞̞̻͊ͫͬ̽Lͩ̂ͦͬ!̋̀ͫ̀̉"̖̮̝̠͙̙ͤ̈͋͂̏̾̽

You're losing those memories with your family, the memories of you and Luan hanging out in your room at home, the times Lucy wrote lyrics for you, that day you went with your little brother to a concert, that letter you wrote to that girl in high school. Those were vanishing, and were being replaced with alien things from a distant past, with the visions of two families fighting over land, you playing the violin with an old man, you escaping that cursed place that was Arkham with the only person you could keep caring about, and now was acting so strange, like he didn't love you anymore.

You are Lurlene Zann. That is what your memories tell you.

Ever since you got to Michigan, in that little town called Royal Woods, Marius has almost been a stranger to you. He's been avoiding even looking at you, and gives you the cold shoulder even when you talk to him directly. He avoids being at home too; he works all day at the brewery he invested in before leaving Massachusetts. He used it as an excuse to never be at home. "I need to manage the place", he says, "It'll go to hell without me at the helm". Not like it was running well already before you got there.

You wait for him to come back to the cold home you were living in. It was a big house, but you were saving money on everything you could, and that included both servants and firewood. You've been getting used to do house duties by yourself, and you could stand the cold alright, although it really made you see things in perspective; how you never moved a finger to get the things you needed up until now. You two thought on building a hostel in this terrain, to tend the passing travelers and get some more money for you to go back to that calm lifestyle of the past. However, you felt like you'd never get that back.

It's almost night now. You light some candles while you prepare dinner for you and him, but he wasn't coming. You kept waiting and waiting, expecting him to come back.

Until you hear a knock in the front door.

You almost run to it. You were worried for him, thinking he wouldn't come back.

In a way, he never did.

"Lurlene, open the door" You hear before you get to the doorknob. A very somber voice you barely recognized as the one of your lover.

"I'm coming!" You tell him. "Are you tired? You don't sound very good".

"It does not matter. Open—NO!"

You were about to open the door, but you stopped right before turning the knob when you heard him scream.

"Marius? What's going on?"

"DON'T OPEN THE DOOR—Open it, open it, I need you":

"What…?"

"Its—IT'S A TRAP, RUN—No, no, no, please, Lurlene, it's…"

You don't know what's going on. He switched back and forth between two different tones, between high nervousness and low seriousness.

"Are you alone?" You ask, holding the door handle in your hand, still dubious on what to do. Is it happening again? Like that time outside the train, or that other night you heard him scream for no reason?

Then you hear slamming. He's slamming the door.

"OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!"

What should you do?

CHOOSE:

OPEN

RUN

CHOSEN: RUN

You hear him in that worried voice. It isn't Marius the one who wants to get in. You see where you can run away, any window open. You're not dressed to run, but you'll try to do it.

The kitchen door, maybe you can get there.

You try to leave silently at first, in case the person at the other side of the door, but you can hear in the silence of the night how that other person moves around as well. You start to run, no matter how much noise you make. You don't hear the other person moving outside now, you're into the kitchen.

You open slowly the door, thinking you could leave, that you lost the man.

But you couldn't.

"Hush, dear lady. It's time for you to fulfill your true purpose".

"̝̣̭̋̐̈ͦ̎̎͊͢S̵̸̘̖̣͙͚͇̪̼͔͛ͤ̌ͧḮ̴̵̼͖̼̹͓N̤̝̜̔ͨͨG̡͍͎͍͚̟͚ͯͪ ̼̩̃̿F̮̫͓̘̜̗̬̪̽ͣͩ̔̂̆̈́̕Ò̼̪̭͕̯̬͓̌̀͒ͩ̐̽Ŗ͉̠̬͇̞̘̞̥̓ ̼͕̹̞̮ͦ͋͐ͮ̕͠M̛̗̦̐̓͋ͬ͞E̥͙͍͈͑̇̋͆̆̔,͓̜̙̰ͨ̂ ̫̐̎̾͘͟Š̸̛͉̼̳͕̱̾̉̃̈͛̚Ȋ̷͙̮͙͓̬͂ͣ̾̓͛͡Ñ̛̹ͯ̕͘G̸̬͕̯̹̠̩̩̟̓̄̎ͤ͞!̡͇̗̺̐̈͂͋͘ ̯̰͓̬͈̼̺̰̖̈́̑Ṡ̺͙̦̩̻̦̣̐͒́I̧̯͇͚̜ͦ̈̎ͭ̔͋ͦ̒͞N͕̥̖̜͐͆̌͐̎̈́G̨̦̥̜̍̄̏͋ͬ͑ ̴̼̞̺͖̻͇̦͚̿̊͑̃͞͞T̴̥̞̠ͮ͑ͤ̈ͣ́H̶̛̼̘̺͔̹̀̑̓͛͞E̸̱̞͈͙͐̾̋ͬ̔͒͘ ̗̹͎̖̎͐ͪ͡͠L̤̻̈͒̔̇͂͡U̦̝̺̖̤̼̟̰̗ͣ̏͆́͜L̝͖͚͈̮̹͌ͭḼ̰̞̹̟͉̙͌̊͒͊̿̽ͣ͝Ạ̯̰̈́͐̃̊ͪͮ̒͡B̷̜̪̗͈̻̜͂̈́͡ͅY̴̙͍͇̭̙̯̱̑̓ͩͭ͊̌̆̇ ̷̰̩̥̜̑ͯ͢͜ͅT̫̺̼̬́̄̎ͤ̇̿Ọ̡̭̖͚̮̥͛ͪ͗ͬ͂̑̒ ̰̝͇̀ͩͤ͐͋̚͝W̸̻̣̹͊͑̽̀ͩ͂̀͝A̸̱̬̖̺̖ͫ̊ͯͫ̇̋͘K̸̵̡͇̯̖̼̣̜̀̓̀̄̈ͬͨ̚E͙̜̯̼͋̓ͩ̋ͣ̈͊̇͡ ̻̪̝̄̎͊̒̈́ͮͅU̜̪̬ͩͪ̓͐ͨ́̑ͤ͌́P̴͕̗̭̯̬̘̐ͭͨ̉ ̸̛̳̭̒̉͂Ő͓̆͑̇̋͂͟Ư̳̠̻̑̈̽ͪ̚R͙̪̬̦̰̼͚͇̃̇̌̇̏̀ ̯̱̠͓̜̜͎͊̾̀͢Ģ͎̺͉͙͛̋̋Ơ̻̻̞̰͕̒̄ͩ͑̀D̴̨͔͖͔̠̯̫̀̊̔ͩ̎͒͒͊"͓̝̠͙͖̳͔̰͂̈́́̀̆̃̃ͦ

̹͕̿̍͞

̰̮̖̜̯͙̫͐͂ͨ̿̋͢͝͡ͅ"̴̼̰̙ͯI̬͑̃̆̀̐̿̐͢T̴̨̖̘̙̩͕̮̒͊́̈̐͊̚͠'͉̘͍͇̒ͪ̈́͟S̵̡̩̰̀̉ͨͭ͂ͨͮ ̵̛̖͉̾ͫ̀̈T̖̘̪̄̏̋ͩ̌̒ͭ̚H̴̘̣͔̦͒ͯ̍ͪ̐͒ͦͧ͞E̘ͨͯ͡ ͍̼̗̤̳̣̮͂͗̏ͨ͒͂͒͆͠͞A̢̛̮̺̭͖͙͋͌͂͒̀͊ͯW̟̼̻̟̠̼̖̄͐͢Ḁ̧͚̯̫̭͂̌̈́̇ͪ̇̎͟K͖͈ͣ́̈̆̐E̙̭̯͍̪̻̯ͫ̎͗̋͂̒ͮ͘͞N̙̟͍̟̖̼̙̳̽ͩ̓́̽̂̀̚͠Ȉ͍̼͓̓͗͗͡Ñ̻͇͕̗͎̼̳͖ͭ̾ͬ̌͘G̶͓̹͖̫͉̗̣ͦ͆͆̈̒̒̄̚͟ ̷̜̩͎̯̰͔̼̜̦̇͂͊́O̧͍ͫ̏ͬ͊F̭̫̭̳̦̙̀̇ͨ͑̐ͪ̃͛͡ ̢͇͎̯̌̒̐̿̒͐̓͞Ă̴̭̖͍͐̎̒́̔̃͟Z̬̻̟͑̀͟͢A̷̯̩̙̩͙͔̳̖̙͗̈́ͯ͗͆̇̈́̀T̼̦ͬ̓̎ͩ̑ͪͩ͘H͙̻͕͔͙̯͎͙͈͗ͪͫ͛͟O̷̵̢̗ͦ̄̎̄ͦͧͦ̂ͅṰ̆ͤ̓́̈̆H̠̭̗̺̠͔͛̿ͯ̔̾͜"̶̸̧̬̝̟̘͍̖͕͚̌ͧ̎̇̏ͪͣͬ

INTERLUDE END


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